A/N; No Authors notes this time.. :O!
"Angel."
A south park fanfiction by Lilzenium
Previously: I stand on the porch, the cancer-stick hanging from my lips and Stan joins me a little later. He's left everyone else inside. "D-dude.. y-you gave Butters one seriouz hick-hickey.." he hiccups, holding onto my shoulder as he sways from left to right. "I-I wonder if zomeone would ever gi-give me one? I want to kn-know how it feelz.." he says, colbalt eyes piercing mine.
"Hmm," I say, perfectly coherent. I haven't had enough to drink to be stuttering and slurring my words like Stanley. "I could, if you want."
He grins, eyes flickering close. "Go on th-then," he pleads, leaning his head against the wooden pole of his porch. I take a step forwards and his hands grab at my jumper, pulling me towards him. I latch my mouth onto his skin, nipping and sucking once more. Stan's skin tastes different to Butters', less salty and more... I can't place it, but it's nice, and it's driving me wild.
My hands are tangled in his hair, my mouth still attached to his skin. His hands are wriggling under my jumper and my shirt, touching my stomach with feather light touches.. and then the car lights hit us - I can see it now on the headlines: Stanley Marsh and Kenneth McCormick caught in the dead of night making out, and what's more, that probably will happen and Stan will get dumped and go all emo-pussy and blame me. Dang, I should have got him asking me on tape. Shit, shit, shit. I think, releasing Stan but once more admiring my handy-work on his skin, before making my way back inside to the party. I fall heavily onto the sofa next to Kyle, who's curled up like a cat.
"Dude, are you alright?" Kyle asks, concerned. I nod, but really I feel sick. I lied about feeling cleaner after my shower.
I still feel as dirty as ever.
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Chapter two: Secret-keeper (Kyle)
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Dude. There was something seriously wrong with Kenny when he arrived back last night. He was like, green. I mean, I saw him and Stan through the window, and I'm pretty sure Stan was ill only a few days ago, so Kenny might have caught something.. and that's not including the 5 STD's he's acquired and had treated over his 18 years of life. What was he doing outside with Stan? I mean, why was he kissing him..? And why on earth do I feel jealous?
The scene replays in my mind and Kenny, who's been sleeping beside me, turns over and cracks an eye open. He's obviously not well, and that's a result of Stan's mouth on his, the nicotine, alcohol and ecstasy that he had in major dosages last night.
"Kyle.." he croaks, "Help.." He lurches forward, retching, and I stumble upwards, grabbing his arm and pulling him along to the bathroom. I push open the door and slip over on a pair of discarded, faded orange boxers. My back aches, and so I lie on the floor, Kenny leans over the toilet, upchucking and I try to ignore the sounds he's making. Using the bath as support, I heave myself up and gingerly make my way over to Kenny. His face is red with embarrassment and tears stream down his face as I rub his back, ignoring the stream of vomit trickling down his chin and into the toilet.
"Are you okay?" I ask, stupidly. His answer is a small head-shake. "Well, are you going to be sick anymore, or can I fetch you a glass of water?" He mumbles his reply.
"Won't be sick.. water please.."
I nod and dash off, literally running into Stan. "Don't go in there, Kenny's been sick," I warn him, thundering downstairs and hunting in the Marsh's kitchen for a glass. I should know where everything is, I mean, this is like my second home - This is where I come when I've been kicked out, when I'm scared, when I need a friend to tell me 'It'll be alright' - but in my panic, I can't find anything.
I fumble for another 5 minutes, and then Sharon appears, sighing. "Helping Kenny?" She asks, pulling a glass from the one cupboard I forgot to look in.
"Yes, helping Kenny, Shar," I say, smiling slightly. Sharon's been Shar for the past 9 years, I guess I started calling her that when I was about 9, although it was always when it was just me and Stan.. Cartman would take the piss, and Kenny would giggle stupidly and imply that something was going on between us. Stupid child. I take the glass from Shar, and fill it with water, hurrying up the stairs and into the bathroom.
By now there's a small crowd around Kenny. Stan's rubbing his back and Wendy looks murderous as she holds Kenny's hair out his face. I guess she's seen the evidence of what happened last night, and wants nothing more than to kill Kenny when instead she's been forced into helping him. Craig stands in the doorway, with a sort of 'I-told-him-ecstasy-was-a-bad-idea-with-nicotine-and-alcohol' look plastered on his face watching as Bebe drapes a towel over his shoulders. I quickly step over the boxers; there's no way I'm tripping on them again, and make my way over to Kenny, shooing people out of the way.
"Get lost," I tell them, ushering them out, shutting the door and sitting on the Bathtub edge. I pass Kenny the glass and watch as he gulps it down. There's a little more colour in his cheeks now, and of that I'm glad, although I can't place why.
"Dude, you're gonna need to rest," I tell him, and he nods. He looks so vulnerable, and I'm overcome with the urge to hug him tightly. I mean, in a friendly way of course.. that's what friends do, right? The hug each-other and tell them they'll be okay. Actually, that's what a mother does, and I guess with his mom now out of his life (she walked out on them last month) I want to be a substitute, y'know, someone he can turn to and that sounds so faggy, and I am not, repeat NOT gay.
At all. Ever. Not gay.
.
.
Or maybe..?
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No.
.
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No. Kenny's just my friend. And now he's staring at me. "Dude, Kyle? Are you alright?" I feel myself nod, not wanting to tell him my internal dilemma, and instead focus on his bracelet. That thing has always enchanted me. He's had it since we were about 8, and at the start it had about.. 400 or so little silver feathers on it. They were all of different sizes, but over the years the feathers have disappeared, and now only one remains. I want to know what the bracelet is for, but I can't ask.. I've mentioned it to Stan and Cartman, but they tell me there's nothing on his left wrist, all his bracelets are on his right.. but those ones are string, not metal. Maybe I'm just crazy.. maybe I should ask.
So I do.
"Kenny.. what's your bracelet for?" He looks down at the metal, twisting the feather between his fingers and he looks at me.
"You.. you can see it? No-one else can.." He says, seeming worried. I nod, tilting my head sideways and fixing him with my green eyes. My eyes are my weapons. They implore people to tell the truth; they're hypnotic, and I can see Kenny struggling to keep it inside.
"It's special," He says, watching me closely. "It stops me from dying.. I used to have 450 feathers on there - that's the number of feathers an angel has on both it's wings -" I nod. I knew there were 400, I said so a minute ago. "But to get rid of them I had to repay debts. When I get rid of this last one, then I'm free to live a normal life. Y'know die properly, get married, have kids.. the works. But until I get rid of this last one, I'm doomed to keep coming back to life."
I nod. "So what d'you have to do to get rid of the last one?"
He shrugs. " For the last 449 I had clues, but for this one I think I have to figure it out by myself. I know it's big; this feather's the largest there's been.. and Kyle, I was wondering... can you help me figure what I have to do? Please?"
I nod. It's all I can do. I'm speechless. There's so much more to Kenny then I first imagined. I never knew that he was on a quest throughout his life, struggling to find one glimmer of normality in his otherwise crowded and abnormal life. He is so alone, and now I am the only person who knows and can help him beat the curse that is upon him.
I'm Kenny's helper, a side-kick... I'm the one he can trust, the one he can turn to..
.
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I'm his secret-keeper.
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